


Temporary Insanity

by Guanin



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the season 2 premiere. Jim tries an alternate mode of paying back Oswald's favor. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary Insanity

“Detective Gordon is here to see you.”

Oswald perked up, straightening in his chair and striving, like always,, to dissemble his enthusiasm for the man’s arrival, but, just like earlier that day when the man had walked through his door, he couldn’t quite manage it, a smile jumping on his lips to express his inner joy.

“Let him in,” he told Gabe, who did as he asked. 

Defeat was certainly the best word that applied for the expression on Jim’s face as he entered the room. His steps were heavy, shoulders slumped, gaze alternating between Oswald’s face and the floor without quite meeting Oswald’s eyes. His hands flexed at his sides, anxiety trapped in helpless fingers. Oswald’s smile wilted a bit. He derived no pleasure from seeing Jim in such a sorry state, although he couldn’t help the flicker of cold satisfaction at Jim’s capitulation. Jim’s betrayal had struck him quite deeply. It was about time that Jim felt a glimmer of the hurt that Oswald had experienced. 

“Cobblepot,” Jim said, voice strangely subdued. Oswald had never heard him speak to him in such a tone before. “May we speak in private?”

“Of course. Leave us,” he ordered his underlings.

After they all filed out of the room, Oswald stood up and stepped halfway out from behind the table, carefully watching Jim, who had stopped in the middle of the room. 

“Well,” he said, folding his hands in front of him. “Have you reconsidered?”

Jim stared at the table for a while before he finally answered.

“You could say that.”

He stepped forward

“I’m happy to hear it,” Oswald said.

Jim’s face pinched bitterly for a second. 

“Yeah. I’m sure you are.”

Jim kept coming forward. Oswald’s arms dropped to his sides, his knees bumping against the chair behind him, retreating as cold apprehension melted his satisfaction,, memories flashing in his mind of Jim clutching him by the lapels and holding him helpless. But why would Jim do something so stupid, here, in Oswald’s house, with his men just in the other room? Surely, he had learned better by now. 

But Jim was reaching out again, just as fast, and Oswald didn’t get the chance to grab the knife in his pants’ pocket before Jim clutched his wrist, gripped him by the back of the neck and kissed him.

What?

This wasn’t happening. Clearly. It couldn’t be. Had Oswald fallen asleep in his chair during the tedious review of the outstanding debts versus those that had already being paid to him? No, he wouldn’t be so careless. Yet Jim kissing him couldn’t be a thing that was happening, so perhaps this impossible fantasy was a dream, after all, and the best thing to was to grab Jim’s shoulders and melt into the kiss, which his body seemed to already be doing, seizing every precious moment before it was snatched away from him.

“So,” Jim breathed harshly against his lips. “This is what you want from me.”

Oswald froze. He opened his eyes, only now aware that he had closed them, and gasped as he met Jim’s sullen gaze.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, releasing Jim’s shoulders, dread prickling his skin.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? I have to do something you want to get my job back.”

“This isn’t what I asked for.”

“But you’d rather have it, wouldn’t you?”

Jim took Oswald’s left hand and slid it inside his shirt. Warm flesh met his fingertips, atop of which rose a hard nub of scarred tissue. An old bullet wound, pain as agonizing then as the one that Oswald saw now in Jim’s slightly glazed eyes. Jim’s mouth. It had tasted of alcohol.

He yanked his hand free from Jim’s grasp. 

“You’re drunk,” he said, resentment livid on his tongue. “Stop this.”

For a moment, Jim didn’t move, and Oswald feared that he would refuse, but then he let him go, stepping back and collapsing in the chair opposite like every ounce of strength had just fled his body, his head lowering so far that Oswald could barely see his face. Oswald gripped the table edge, willing his hands to stop shaking and his breath to steady, but that was easier said than done after the teasing torment that had just occurred. Jim’s taste clung to his lips still, the heat of his skin sweaty on Oswald’s nape. A scream boiled at the bottom of his throat, but he couldn’t release it without bringing further humiliation upon himself.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” Jim said, not raising his eyes. 

“Of course not.” Anger soured Oswald’s voice. He sank into his chair, his knees too weak to hold him anymore. “You don’t want me. I can’t possibly think of how you thought that it would endear you to me to toy with my desires in such a cruel fashion, but let me assure you that I’m not in the least pleased with you. I’m not so sure that I want to help you with your reinstatement, after all.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you to die, either.”

“Oh, please. Add lies on top of everything else. By all means.”

“It’s the truth. I just… I wanted you to think that I would. To know that I was the one holding all the cards for once.”

Oswald scoffed, crossing his arms.

“You wanted to lord over me. How ignoble of you.”

Jim shot him a sharp look.

“Like you’re above that?”

Oswald pursed his lips, fingers digging into his upper arms.

“Fine. Well, I hope you were sufficiently amused at my expense. It certainly won’t happen again.”

“No, I don’t expect that it will.”

“Why did you come here tonight? What possible advantage could teasing me like this provide you?”

“Are you in love with me?”

Oswald’s breath clenched in his throat. He struggled to form his next word.

“What?”

“Yes or no, Oswald. Are you in love with me?”

 _No_ , he tried to say, framing the word with his lips, but it dried on his tongue. He shouldn’t love him, shouldn’t feel anything more than rage and resentment toward someone who had been so callous to him, but none of Jim’s many humiliations had been enough to smother that truth that had given Oswald such hope when he had first visited Jim’s home. 

He looked up at Jim, only to find him staring at him, his eyes shockingly clear and sharp. 

“That’s a yes, then,” Jim said softly.

Oswald began the motion to shake his head “no”, but he stopped himself, raised his chin, and met Jim’s eyes without hesitation.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing you can exploit and use against me.”

“No. I fucked that up, didn’t I? No more friends don’t owe friends. You keep using that word, friends, but you don’t mean it anymore, do you? I never wanted you to mean it. A criminal inviting me to parties and talking to me like we were real friends. When I first stopped by your club, you were so damn happy. You kept looking at me like my being there meant the world to you. Like you wanted the drink of champagne you insisted I have with you to be a date.”

Oh. Jim had noticed that, had he? How careless he had been. 

“I… I never meant for you to pick up on that,” Oswald said, fumbling over his words. “I only meant to express an offer of friendship. I didn’t wish to intimate that I wanted more than you were willing to give. I only ever hoped for your friendship. That’s all.”

Jim nodded slowly.

“I guess I should be relieved. I am glad that you stopped me. I would think even less of you if you hadn’t.”

“Of course I stopped you. I’m not the sort of man who would take advantage of a drunk person like that.”

How could Jim even think it?

“And you would never have gone through with it,” Oswald continued. “I still can’t understand why you even tried.”

“Temporary insanity.” Jim slouched back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. “If I’m going to whore myself to you, might as well do it properly.”

“And would you have felt any better about yourself in the morning?”

“Probably not. But at least I wouldn’t be breaking the law.”

“I hate to remind you of this little detail, Jim, but the law does in fact frown upon prostitution. Nor would I acquire your payment via legal means.”

Jim shut his eyes. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, breath deepening in a rueful sigh.

“No. Stupid of me not to think of that. This entire thing… just, stupid.”

Placing his hands on the table, he pushed himself to his feet.

“I’ll get you your money. Ogden Barker, was it?”

His spirit seemed to sink with every word he spoke. It troubled Oswald to see him like this. When Jim had first approached him yesterday, oh how good it had felt for Jim to finally capitulate to the fact that he needed Oswald. And he had gloried in the prospect of having Jim under his thumb. He had. It made him a poor friend, but payback was due after all the disrespect that Jim inflicted upon him. But now Oswald’s conviction faltered. Jim looked dead on his feet, his legs barely holding his weary frame, the shame of what he must do already eating at his soul. This shouldn’t affect Oswald anymore. He had given Jim plenty of chances to be his friend and Jim had thrown them in the gutter. Oswald’s patience was at an end. Jim must now pay the freight for Oswald’s kind favor.

And yet, as Jim shuffled away, Oswald almost called him back, the words hot on his tongue. _Never mind, Jim. All is forgiven. You owe me nothing._

But he didn’t say a word. 

`````````````````````````

The next night, Jim dropped a bag full of cash on Oswald’s table. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The guilt brimming in his eyes said enough. When Jim had arrived, Oswald had requested that they be left alone to grant Jim some privacy. It was the least that he could do. 

“Is it all in there?” Jim asked, voice hollow.

“Yes.” 

Oswald’s didn’t even care if the money was complete or not. The murder that Jim had committed to acquire it was punishment enough. He had expected that something of the sort might happen when he assigned Jim the task, but, watching him struggle with the burden now, the weight of it pressed down on his own shoulders. 

“Don’t worry,” Oswald continued. “Your debt is paid.”

“I’m glad.”

Those words couldn’t have sounded further from the truth.

Jim turned to leave. Oswald watched him go, clutching the bag, ripped by self-doubt. 

Jim was almost at the door.

Oswald jumped up, the man’s name flying off his tongue.

“Jim!” 

Jim stopped, but he didn’t turn around, so Oswald rushed over, stepping around him to look him in the eye. Well, that was his intention, if only Jim would lower his head to meet his.

“We are even now,” Oswald said. “You don’t need to worry about owing me any more favors.”

Jim frowned, finally looking at Oswald.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

Oswald tucked his hands behind his back, hiding how his left clutched nervously at nothing.

“I mean that I would like the word friends to be genuine between us again.”

“Friends.” Angry bitterness permeated the word. “Right. I’ve paid enough for your good favor, have I?”

Oswald’s mouth tightened. 

“I only demanded payment after you barged in here expecting me to grant you your wishes at no cost after all the disrespect that you have heaped on me. I couldn’t let that cycle continue, now could I? Not to mention the emotional manipulation that you tried on me last night. You know what? Forget I said anything. Go. I’ll get you your job back and there will be no need for us to talk after that.”

He strode past Jim, but the man grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” Jim said. 

Oswald shook his hand off. 

“I won’t owe you any more favors?” Jim asked.

“No. No more debt collecting, I promise. Let’s just declare everything water under the bridge and start over.”

Jim’s frown deepened.

“I thought that you weren’t going to let your feelings over me influence you.”

“One last indulgence. And I do mean last. This is your last chance, Jim. If you say that you agree and then turn your back on me again, we’re done. For good.”

Jim considered it for a moment.

“Well,” he said. That doesn’t give me much of choice, does it?”

“We can continue our association in a business-like manner, if you wish. That’s not a problem. I remember that is the sort of transaction you expected when you first came to me at my club.”

“Yes. I did prefer it that way. But I know better now. Alright. Let’s be friends.” 

Jim’s smile didn’t reach one sliver of his eyes. Oswald’s stomach, clenched throughout this whole ordeal, trembled anxiously, already regretting that he had said anything at all. But it had been said, and, perhaps, Jim might see the benefits of been kinder to him this time, so Oswald put on his best, fake smile and said,

“I’m glad that you agree.”

He held out his hand. Sweat clung to Jim’s palm as he shook his, but his hand was firm. Oswald could only hope that this boded well. He had to.


End file.
